Page 120 of Backtrack

Much to Lola’s annoyance, Cutter took only half her advice. He jumped on a FaceTime call with Mim but gave the extra room to Joellen and slept on the couch. Lola stomped away to her room, avoiding eye contact with Joellen altogether.

Cutter asked no questions, acting instead as if her visit was planned all along.

“I’m on the phone with Mim,” he said. “Your bed’s in there. You have it all to yourself. I’ll use the bathroom in Lola’s cabin.”

Joellen gave a sullen nod and took her pillow into the other room. Whatever grand slumber party or all-night talk she may have expected, it wasn’t happening.

As hide-a-beds went, the suite’s sofa was fairly comfortable, though Cutter’s feet did hang off the end by a couple of inches.

He wore his AirPods, leaving Joellen and Lola privy only to his side of the conversation.

“… she just unilaterally decided y’all would have a sleepover?” Mim said. “Occupation by force.”

“Yep,” Cutter said.

“That’s just crazy.” Then, in typical Mim fashion, added a splash of grace. “But I suppose she’s gotta be scared out of her mind.”

“It’ll all work out.”

Mim sighed. “I know …”

Cutter brought her up to speed on the happenings of the day, leaving out the gory details of Malosi’s murder and not dwelling on the fact that the killer was still at large. He didn’t mention the inoperable cameras at all.

“… I’ll bet Lola’s over the moon with the Russian dog’s head info.”

“She is.” Cutter steered the discussion away from bloody murder and asked about the kids. “Any new broken bones?”

“Day ain’t over yet,” Mim said. “I can hear a pillow fight getting out of hand as we speak. They’re gonna shake the pictures off the walls. Can’t wait for you to get home and swim some of this energy off them.”

“Me too,” Cutter said.

“Please tell me you’re still coming home by Sunday?”

“Should be,” Cutter said.

“Good, because I’m making that leg of lamb for your mother and I need you here to make gravy.”

“I’ll be home to make gravy,” Cutter said. “Cross my heart.”

“I’m serious, Arliss,” Mim said. “I make really shitty gravy. …” She sniffed, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I don’t want your mother to judge me.”

“Are you—”

“I’m not crying over gravy!” she snapped. “This is just … This is hard.”

“I promise,” he said. “Barring some act of God, I’ll be home to make the gravy.”

“Thank you,” she said, tearing up again. “I love you, big man, and don’t you forget it.” She held the phone over her belly. “She loves you, too.”

He gave her a thumbs-up. “Gravy or bust. Now get some sleep.”

Mim blew him a kiss. “Be careful.”

Cutter waited for her to end the call and then leaned back on the couch, slouching against the cushions, phone on his belly.

Joellen ambled out of her room. “Sorry,” she said, pulling her robe closed at her chest. It was a gauzy blue thing that didn’t quite come to her knees. “If I’d known things were going to turn out this way, I would have worn my granny gown.”

“Good to know,” Cutter said.